I was terrified of being outcast before I got a chance, so I did research. Was there anything about me that was a good strength? What about my weaknesses? I pulled an all-nighter doing nothing but researching the internet on American teenagers, fashion choices, and the culture – what was considered faux pas and what was the norm.
I got so much conflicting information, I didn’t know what to take as true for the area I was in, and I was too wrapped up in anxiety to actually get out of the hotel on my own and take a look for myself. Mainly, what I got out of the research was that people were often bullied for things they loved that were considered geeky – support, while not necessarily hard to come by, wasn’t always readily local to the individual. I decided then and there to hide my otaku self in order to not alienate myself. My love of manga and drawing manga turning into designing fashion, and my love of cosplay turned into following all the latest fashion trends, both national and abroad.
Otosan was not in the hotel often, as he was working hard training his employees – something he took very seriously, and was very strict about. I knew and understood this, and although I craved something familiar, I did not bother him, instead turning to the few familiar things I had brought with me on the plane for comfort.
My first day of school was a nightmare to me, until a classmate took it upon himself to help me when I stood in the lunchroom alone, looking lost and on the verge of tears.
He introduces himself as “Tony – you know, just like the tiger” Takeda. I didn’t get the reference, but he took that in stride. He was very friendly to me, and offered to show me around the school and then around town if I were able to go, and asked me my name.
He thought it fascinating that I was from Tokyo, and had a tendency to ask me all kinds of questions about Japan, but especially about cars and motorcycles that are manufactured there. I really couldn’t tell him much, but after talking to some of my friends back in Japan after that first day, I was able to give him some good resources to check out, and he was elated.
He gave me time to get acclimated to the school and my new life before introducing me to his small group of friends. David was the first he introduced me to, as that was his best friend in the world, and from there others were introduced to me gradually, rather than as an all at once, sudden shock sort of deal.
Two weeks after we landed in the country, Otosan managed to get a house. I wasn’t expecting anything as large as what we got, but Otosan said that we should live as our station in life allows, and that this would allows us that, and still be able to live comfortably.
Movers took our things out of storage and placed them in the house; Otosan even took a vacation day in order to see to it that everything went smoothly, something virtually unheard of for him. I suspect, however, someone at the company told him to take the time off and see to his affairs – I can’t see him making the decision otherwise.
After that first day it was left up to me to put things in their proper place, and the first thing I did was set up the household shrine, and then my personal shrine that honors my mother. While I got offers of help from Tony, David and others, I declined politely, explaining to them that I knew how my father liked things. Secretly I was terrified of them finding my rather extensive otaku collection and turning their backs on me because I was “too geeky”. Once the house was in good order I spent more time with the group, and learned that they had a name they called themselves; Saiche Resa. Before I could ask what it meant, Tony explained that it was a blend of Chinese and Japanese, roughly translating into (as far as he knew) Racer Racer. A sort of joke, but one that sounded good.
When I asked about why racer was the name, he told me that the group of them rode, and occasionally raced, motorcycles. He hadn’t brought it up before because he didn’t want to intimidate me. He offered to give me a ride on the back of his once we picked up a spare helmet for me, and from that first ride, I fell in love with riding.
Encouraged by my enjoyment of the ride, he started taking me to night races, and eventually I broke down and asked him to help me get a bike of my own. Money wasn’t the concern, because I was fairly certain that I could get money from my father if I phrased things appropriately. What I wanted to know was which bikes were good, and what I would look good riding. My new friends all tried to help, and after I settled on one, they helped me study for my license and learn how to drive. Surprisingly, I was a quick learner when it came to it – I didn’t find it very difficult to maneuver at all, despite my size,
Things were just starting to fall into place when Otosan started talking about her. At first, I just thought it was a co-worker he was friends with. He’d had female associates before, but it gradually began to occur to me that although he worked with and would occasionally hang out with some of his female co-workers, he never talked about them. So I paid attention, and the more I paid attention, the more angry and hurt I felt. Otosan was enamored with this woman at work! With growing horror, I realized he was talking about her in the same manner he used to talk about Kaasan – which was another oddity. Since our move, he had never spoke of her. He even stopped lighting incense for her.
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| Jessica Miller |
Perhaps I wouldn’t have minded all this so very much, if Otosan didn’t seem to change, if he still talked about Kaasan on occasion – even if it was just when I asked.
I started resenting her at first because she was taking my mother’s place in my eyes. A replacement – not a substitute. I like to think I would have gotten over that in time, had she not been exerting such strong influence over Otosan.
While too set in his ways to change completely, he no longer seemed the formal Japanese man I knew and loved since I was old enough to remember. No…he seemed to be forgetting who he was. That he did his martial arts not to stay in shape, but for the discipline and philosophy behind it as well. It was a conversion.
I will never forgive her for it. When Dad started losing his way, I suggested to the gang that we all connect with our heritage, and stressed the importance of knowing who we were and where we came from, in order to know who we are and where we are going. I was not expecting the overwhelming support I got from them. For some, who had family that had emigrated and were still alive, this would not be difficult, for others, who may have been adopted or not had good relationships with family, we appointed one of the gang members, Liz, to be our cultural ambassador, in a manner of speaking.
Liz herself was Chinese-American, and knew she could rely on myself and David for help on Chinese and Japanese cultural identity. But she took great pride in resolving to learn what she could about Thai, Vietnamese and Filipino culture and heritage for the rest of the gang. This was also the time I introduced the concept of helping our fellow Asians in the Little Asia district of town, becoming their strength and shield when need be, and idea again meant with enthusiasm.
This had all happened when I was sixteen. By the time I turned seventeen, other changes were taking place that I was unaware of until I graduated high school and Otosan told me. He and Jessica were engaged. Moreover, she would be coming to live with us. Stunned, I looked around, and noticed things that hadn’t been there before – pieces of art or funiture, boxes stacked against the wall. I did not snap out of my disarray until I saw that the shrine was no longer in place – it was nowhere to be found, in fact.
I admit, I stormed out, infuriated, and took off to Tony’s place, and broke down into tears. He let me get it all out, consoling me with gentle words until I had calmed down. Otosan called me after work – I had not been talking to him very much for a while, but I answered the phone anyway. “Come home”, he would ask of me, and I refused, each time he asked. In the background, I could hear people talking and laughing, and got angry all over again. He spoke to me sternly in Japanese, and I stubbornly refused to come home. Eventually, I was asked to leave. It was late, and Tony’s parents felt that I should return home.
Home I went, finding many vehicles in the driveway and on the street around the house. I entered in as quietly as I could, but my father was waiting for me. He wanted me to join the engagement party that was going on, but I just glared at him and stormed up to my room. I’m sure I shamed him in some manner, but I don’t know that he minded, as he left me alone. I know I didn’t care – I was too upset, and having it spring on my like that was not cool, in my eyes.
Later that night, I snuck downstairs, and stole her work security badge, taking good scans on it before returning it. I thought Michael might be able to do something with it. I was determined that night to give Jessica problems.
I went to Michael first, asking him to do a ludicrous favor and try to use her credentials to hack into the company. He knew how much I didn’t like her and why, but when I gave him the explanation of why I wanted this done, he didn’t mind as much.
As he explained it to me, it was a simple hack, giving him backdoor access into the company’s internal system. No one would notice him,a sit shouldn’t show up as anything fishy. We quickly learned, however, that there were some shady goings on with the company. Inventories being off, shady shipments…things like that. Dad didn’t know about any of this, I felt certain. But Jessica? He worked there, and wasn’t low on the totem pole, to hear her talk.
We shared with Tony and David the following day what we had learned, since it was some serious, heavy stuff. I let Tony and David decide what, if anything, we should do, but Tony let the decision pass to me. I felt that as a group, it fell under protecting our community. What to do exactly, was a matter to be solved for another time.